Archive for December, 2019

The judgement of affluent war criminals we elected

Posted in Uncategorized on December 8, 2019 by antonyowen
adult aqua art athlete

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God in her mercy took you in

dangled a robin to pulse from your chest

to show you the songs you never gave the world.

 

God in her disgust threw your teeth to barren soil

and told you they would smash the rising raggedy sea

to show you Aphrodite’s clothes is seaweed on dead refugees.

 

God will play you the ice chimes of a grieving piano

She will tie white people on the black keys and vice versa

You shall listen how black and white work together as you weep.

 

If I were God, I would not take you in,

I would paint dusk with the Robin’s breast

and the song would be silence as I drop you to fire.

 

I f were God; I would denounce myself unworthy

I would rip out your heart like a grandfather clocks pendulum

wait at the shore for refugees in kelp coats to wash you in their limbo.

 

If I were God, I would stare upon earths autopsy and weep

but I am not God, I drift like white snow into the listing nothingness

Zaragoza Dusk

Posted in Uncategorized on December 1, 2019 by antonyowen

For Reuben Woolley

 

We last spoke of wrens singing moments after Armistice

dotting sky like a blue egg they returned from the baroque earth

and made globe shaped nests with splays of khaki and hardy gorse.

 

You told me that you always preferred brutalist sculptures

how Coventry rose from the ashes not as a phoenix but as man

he came from Krakow, County Armagh to build the great grey bird.

 

You told me that in Zaragoza the oranges are dull as they should be,

that they are full of pips and grow like stanzas in the silt of a dreamer’s mind

you dropped a C-bomb on an unsuspected crowd and a poem exploded meaning.

 

Upon hearing of your death, I saw twenty-two children chasing a white ball,

they reminded me how words looked scattered in your poems

one of the boys never celebrated his goal and I felt you there.

 

Tonight, in Zaragoza the sky looks nothing special and you would like that.

Tonight, on the Ebro are fireflies knitting light into the neon unnoticed

they are of the dark, of the other world. They emit your lights.

photo of man standing against city buildings

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